


Touch

by punklynch



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kavinsky is mentioned briefly, M/M, Smut, Tickling, brief mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:39:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punklynch/pseuds/punklynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series exploring Adam and Ronan getting used to touch in both sexual and non sexual situations</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I like the ivy and the ink blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this  
> Updates will vary in length, depending on how many words i have inside of me to write

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title comes from yayo by lana del rey

The first time Adam and Ronan had done something not strictly pg-13, the night was not perfect per se. There were no rose petals or mood candles or other bullshit romantic gestures. There was just this: two boys, the dim light of the moon illuminating their actions.

Adam was exhausted, sighing as he entered his apartment above the church and slumping against the door to close it. Ronan had been lounging on Adam’s bed, doing his homework while trying not to look like he was doing his homework.

It was probably futile, his report card would reveal the fruit of his efforts at the end of the term. Gansey would definitely be happy, glad that Ronan was choosing to spend his time amongst sleeping cows and above St Agnes’ studying, than out racing under fluorescent lights and the influence of alcohol.

Something twisted in Ronan’s stomach at the thought of Gansey; they still hadn’t told him about _it_. They being him and Adam, and the ‘it’ being the fact that at the end of Adam’s long day, he would fold himself against Ronan and kiss him senseless in a tangle of limbs.

‘It’ was also the fact that sometimes, when Adam’s shift ended earlier than usual, they would make up the time by eating out at a cheap diner or McDonalds restaurant, illuminated by flickering lights on the highway somewhere. Sometimes they held hands under the table at Nino’s. Sometimes they would park a block away from Aglionby and make out desperately before school. Sometimes Adam would leave Monmouth, furtively hiding a boner, and Ronan would lock his door and touch himself, knowing that the other boy would be doing the same in his tiny apartment above St Agnes’.

But that was as far as they had gone, touching themselves while the distance of a few streets, or a few inches of Adam’s thin bathroom walls, separated them. It was fine. A few months ago, Ronan would have counted himself lucky to have Adam even look at him for a few beats too long. Besides, Ronan didn’t want Adam thinking he was _pressuring_ him to do more. Still, Adam was always so exhausted and so stressed and Ronan wanted to do something for Adam. Something that wouldn’t cost anything but was worth more than Ronan wanted to admit.

Ronan wanted to touch another boy. Ronan wanted to touch Adam. That was a revelation hard won.

So the night progressed as it usually did. Ronan clambered to his feet. Adam kissed him, not so much a kiss but a promise of one. Adam showered, and came out dressed in one too many items of clothing then was strictly necessary. He crawled into Ronan’s lap, and they kissed and kissed and kissed. They kissed so much Ronan swore he was losing feeling in his lips, but that might have just been the fact that all the blood in his body was rushing down, down, down.

Adam smiled, and it was such a precious and rare thing that Ronan had to capture it in his lips. When they broke apart, Adam shifted slightly, his hard-on pressing against Ronan’s. Ronan fought to repress a very un-Ronanlike sound but he must have been obvious about it because Adam ground against him harder and Ronan couldn’t stop the moan that escaped through his lips.

Adam grinned wickedly as he pushed Ronan into his mattress. Ronan could feel his heart pounding in tandem against Adam’s, and he felt empty inside, as if someone had scooped out his stomach, and the hollow was being filled with bursts of adrenalin.

But the adrenalin wasn’t entirely good adrenalin, it made him feel sick as it twisted through his skin and he couldn’t keep his muscles from tensing, just as he couldn’t help yet another moan leave his lips as Adam kissed his neck.

Despite nearly everything about Ronan telling Adam to go, he stopped. Adam pulled himself off Ronan and sat in a position that ensured their cocks were not touching. Ronan both celebrated and lamented this.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, but Ronan didn’t have the words. He couldn’t explain why every muscle in his body was poised to fight; the answer was too twisted and complicated and inexplicable. There were parts of Ronan that felt right, and parts that felt wrong and parts that felt mixed up, all caught up between the two extremes.

“I don’t know,” Ronan answered truthfully. His body felt like it was comprised of incompatible parts, making him a cumbersome and lopsided beast.

Adam’s eyebrows narrowed as he fit his head around Ronan’s answer. “Can we just-just-, “words failed Ronan. He was almost ashamed to say them.

“Slow down?” Adam finished for him, and when Ronan nodded ‘yes’, Adam also looked visibly relieved.

“Okay, okay,” Adam said in attempt to calm the situation down. It worked because Ronan found Adam’s voice very calming, whether he was mumbling nonsense in his sleep or studying aloud for a test. It also didn’t work because his Henrietta accent had slipped through, thickening his words and extending his vowels, and Ronan became acutely aware of his hard dick.

Adam lay down on his side, and Ronan matched him. He seemed to be stealing himself.

“What do you want, Ronan?” he asked, but Ronan, once again, didn’t know how to answer. Adam placed a hand on Ronan’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. They both seemed pleased when Ronan didn’t tense up.

Suddenly, Ronan thought of an answer to Adam’s most recent question. The words fell clumsily off his tongue “Can you touch me? Just, y’know, up above?” Ronan asked.

No sooner had the words left his mouth that he wanted to retract them. He rolled to his other side; there was no way he wanted to see Adam’s face as he parsed this.

Adam answered a gravelly “Okay”, and placed his hand on Ronan’s exposed shoulder blade. He knew Adam could feel the bumps and twists of his tattoo. Adam followed the curves of the ink with his finger, adding his own invisible lines with his other fingers. It was fine, Ronan was fine, more than fine actually. Until Adam traced a finger down his spine, and despite the months passed and murderous dream-beasts, Ronan’s first thought was _Kavinsky._

K occupied a particularly ugly and polluted space in Ronan’s mind, along with the memory of the wrecked Camaro and the nights filled with pills, booze and dreams. It shamed Ronan to know that he had once wanted Kavinsky to touch him like that. It scared Ronan to know that the time it actually happened, he didn’t want it but couldn’t stop it. It scared Ronan to know that he had shared the hood of a car with a boy who didn’t believe in consent. It scared Ronan to know that he didn’t feel particularly remorseful to know that Kavinsky had died.

Adam must have felt Ronan’s tension because he paused and said, breath hot against Ronan’s skin, “Is this okay?  What’s wrong?”  
Ronan never lied so he said “Kavinsky”.

Adam drew back and for one terrible moment, Ronan thought it was finally happening. Adam was leaving him. Leaving him, a boy, a twisted and confused and vulnerable boy. He was going to go and find some bullet proof and impervious Blue Sargent-like girl.

But Adam was merely readjusting his position, slipping an arm around Ronan’s torso, pulling him into a spooning hug. Granted, it was a bit awkward because Ronan could feel Adam’s boner against is back, but it was a hug nonetheless. Ronan had mentioned K’s name, which generally felt like a taboo word in their group and it hadn’t been enough to snap Adam.

Ronan still felt he should elaborate “After I dream, I can’t move for a bit. And I was drugged up so,”

Ronan could feel Adam’s intake of breath against his neck. “Oh my god, did he?” Adam trailed off.

Adam’s concern was sweet and too much for Ronan. He wanted to destroy something. Instead he brushed it off “Psh, he wished,”

Adam angled his head onto his hand so he could look down at Ronan. Ronan turned to face him. Adam didn’t look angry, or affronted that Ronan had essentially broken up their sexy time to get angsty about a boy who was best left forgotten.

Adam just looked like Adam, calculating and determined, but Ronan caught a little concern in his gaze. Adam leant in, and pressed little kisses over Ronan’s face, all the while whispering sweet nothings into the night air. “It’s okay” he said, kissing Ronan’s cheekbone. A “You’re okay” was mumbled into his jaw as Adam kissed his neck.

“I would never be like Kavinsky” Adam said, and Ronan tried to believe him. He wanted to believe him, but his body wasn’t giving in so easily. They turned to face each other, and Adam ran his hand up Ronan’s arm, smoothing out the tension in his biceps. There was something so honest and vulnerable about Adam, something that wasn’t there in Kavinsky’s heavy-lidded, drug addled eyes.

Ronan felt something he hadn’t felt with Kavinsky. It was like trust, but with something extra. Ronan didn’t want to contemplate that extra, so he stuck with trust. He trusted Adam as their lips met again. He trusted Adam as he kissed down his jaw and neck, sucking reddish bruises into Ronan’s skin. Adam’s hand lay quivering above Ronan’s track pants, so Ronan matched this, fingering the waistband of Adam’s boxers.

A silent agreement was made with their eyes, but Ronan spoke it aloud. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay” said Adam.

And so, with shaking hands and tripping heart beats, they stripped out of their pants (Adam kept his shirt on. The hidden planes of Adam’s chest and back were somewhere Ronan’s hands were not yet allowed to walk). Ronan pressed his lips against Adam’s, capturing Adam’s mouth in a deep, slow kiss as they reached to take each other’s cocks in hand. They weren’t exactly prepared for this, but Adam seemed to enjoy the friction. Ronan just rejoiced in being touched, wondrous about the feeling of Adam’s hands. Adam’s hands, fixer of cars, writer of top graded essays, shuffler of tarot cards and repairer of the ley line and now currently making Ronan breathless and needy, his hips arching and his mouth uttering ungodly noises every time Adam’s fingers swiped over a vein.

They came almost simultaneously, and Ronan suspected in record time. Ronan wiped their hands off with his track pants, bringing Adam in for another kiss. It was slow and languorous and sated and something in Adam’s eyes said _trust,_ and something in Adam’s arm encircling Ronan’s body said _safe_ and something in their rapidly beating hearts said _love._


	2. My scars were reflecting the mist in your headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets more comfortable with letting Ronan touch his scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who has scars (not from the hands' of someone else, but from myself) I think it is important to acknowledge the myriad of feelings that come along with having them.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> The chapter title comes from anything we want by fiona apple

Adam hoped he would one day get used to the feeling of taking his shirt off in front someone else. That someone else was Ronan Lynch, a hurricane in human form. Pit viper deadly with venom to maim but currently he was harmless. He was staring. Incredulously, wondrously, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

It happened like this: they had been kissing. It was chaste and playful, both conscious of Gansey in the other room, privy to every noise that filtered through the brick walls. It wasn’t that they were keeping it from him, it was just that they hadn’t explicitly told him they were dating. And it was only common courtesy that he found out in another way than from catching one of their stifled moans, or worse yet, walking in on them.

Ronan had teased the hem of Adam’s shirt, and something inside Adam shut itself off. Froze. Removed itself and vacated the premises.

It was stupid, Ronan had seen him at his worst. He had seen it happen to him. He had seen the bruises and cuts on his face and arms.

It was stupid yet Adam was doing it anyway, which was pretty much the story of his life.

Adam disentangled his limbs and sat apart from Ronan. Ronan pushed himself into a sitting position (they had both discovered somewhat recently how much Ronan liked to lay under Adam. They both refused to consider the implications of this).

The boy in question apologised, or more precisely, said “Shit” in apologetic tones. For Ronan, all emotions could be expressed through cursing.

Despite his word choice, he looked genuinely worried and this made Adam feel even more stupid. The logic his head was thinking was not transmitting to his limbs; he could not make his arms un-wrap from around his knees.

Ronan reached out, stopping short of his shoulder. Anger licked up Adam’s insides, incinerating his internal organs. He was tired of being treated like a ticking-time bomb, by Ronan no less.

Ronan could read this on the set of his shoulders, on his furrowed eye brows and white knuckles. He took Adam’s hand and Adam let him, letting him smooth out the tendons with his gentle thumb. Adam didn’t want to apologise, but he did anyway.  “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid,”

Something complicated flashed in Ronan’s eyes as he took a moment to formulate the words he need “Don’t, okay? It’s fine”.

Adam couldn’t help but feel inadequate. Surely Ronan was frustrated by the fact that Adam never took his shirt off, that Adam tensed whenever Ronan’s hand passed over his chest. Adam stole himself, then he reached to take off his shirt, pulling his hand out of Ronan’s. To his surprise (and relief) Ronan held out a hand to still him.

“Adam,” he said, and if his hand hadn’t been enough, the tone in his voice would have stopped Adam dead in his tracks. It was wanting, and sorry for wanting, and embarrassed and cautious. “Don’t okay? I don’t care if I never see you shirtless. Don’t do this for me” Ronan said, and he said it like it cost him something to be this honest. He was always honest but that involved some pretty clever omissions and hoop-jumping sometimes. Ronan was speaking like he knew the easier way for him to do this, but he was choosing the harder way, for Adam’s sake.

Adam was pissed off. Because Ronan had immediately made it about himself and also because he was right.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Adam said, and it sounded like the truest thing he had ever said.

Ronan looked inexplicably wounded and Adam struggled to keep up.

“Oh no, not about us. About me,” and then he faltered “I can’t. I don’t know, okay? I know it’s going to be fine. If you touch them. But I can’t. I can’t make myself know that, at the same time”

Something in Ronan’s eyes resolved. “Well how about you show me?” he asked. As a show of faith, he sat on his hands. “I won’t touch unless you let me”

Adam swallowed, acutely aware of how fragile this _thing_ between them felt. But not Ronan. Ronan was steadfast and solid. He wouldn’t let Adam break, or at least Adam hoped he wouldn’t.

Slowly, Adam drew his shirt up his body and with shaking hands tossed it aside. He almost couldn’t bear to see Ronan’s face in that moment, but he was glad his body betrayed him, otherwise he wouldn’t have caught Ronan’s expression. It was worshipful and prayerful and, god, that was sinful.

Ronan drew in a sharp intake of breath, and Adam would have too but he was already breathless, his lungs gasping in anticipation.

Ronan exhaled and his eyebrows narrowed mischievously. “Damn, I didn’t know you were so toned. I’ve always pictured you skinnier,” even as he was saying the words he seemed confused as to how they were coming out of his mouth and he was blushing furiously.

It amazed Adam how Ronan could make even the most innocuous of actions, like blushing, angry.

Still, the tension that had gripped Adam’s insides seconds ago had dissipated, banished by his own cheeks warming up.

Ronan may not have been touching him with his hands, but Adam could practically feel his eyes sliding across the planes of his chest and abdomen, lingering at his lightly outlined abs.

“Well you can’t work three manual jobs without gaining a bit of muscle” Adam said by way of reply.

Ronan was rapt and Adam immediately regretted his earlier doubt. He had been worried, that Ronan’s gaze would snag on the freckles clustered on his chest or his malnourished rib cage or his collection of scars, and he would turn away in disgust.

Boys like Ronan could have anyone they wanted, and boys like Gansey really made a more suitable choice, but Ronan was here, drinking Adam in, looking very much like he wanted to devour Adam’s body with his hands and with his lips.

God, Adam wanted him to. He desperately wanted Ronan to touch him but he didn’t know how to ask. So instead he pounced, pushing Ronan into the mattress with the force of his hug. Ronan seemed torn, his hands hovering inches above Adam’s back so Adam murmured his ascent. He refrained from flinching as Ronan touched a raised and bumpy scar on his shoulder.

“Broken beer bottle, I had to stitch it up myself,” Adam said, by way of explanation.

Ronan didn’t flinch, he didn’t turn away in disgust or do any of the things Adam secretly thought he would do. Instead he pulled Adam closer, running his finger along the length of the scar as if he could push it back into his skin.

They stayed like that for a while, Adam drifting in and out of consciousness as the lazy afternoon light filtering through the windows slowly darkened into a musky twilight. Somewhere outside, the crickets started chirping, singing away the sun. One of Ronan’s hands made lazy circles on Adam’s back while the other sifted through his hair.

Ronan broke the not-silence first. “If I could go back and stop it earlier, I would have”

This was dangerous territory, they both knew it, but the familiar snaking anger wasn’t there this time. Ronan wasn’t taking pity, he wasn’t asserting his dominance over Adam or chipping away at his pride, he was just wishing. Wishing and hoping and praying and thanking.

Thanking that Adam was here in his arms, thanking that Adam made an impossible choice for Ronan’s sake. Thanking Adam for carrying on, even if he didn’t get the triumphant walking out of his house like he wanted.

Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe Adam would look back on this moment with anger.

 “I know,” he replied.

For now, it was okay.


	3. Happiness hit her, like a bullet in the back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan discovers that Adam is ticklish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't know what this is. I originally intended it to be fluffy and cute but then there was a bit of angst and a coming out, so :)
> 
> Chapter title from dog days are over by florence and the machine

It was surprising to Adam how much another human touch meant to him. And not just in relation to sex. Sure, he had Ronan had been doing _things,_ but that wasn’t all the time. They had things like school and work and homework and group hangs and Church. It wasn’t physically or logistically possible to fuck around as often as they would have liked.

No, Adam was surprised about how much stress and exhaustion and impossibility left his body through the steady hands of Ronan Lynch as he kneaded out the knots in Adam’s shoulders after yet another strenuous shift at work.

Or how comfortable it felt to curl up next to Ronan when exhaustion finally got its hands on Adam’s brain and body.

Or how Adam had these particularly sensitive parts of his body and Ronan had managed to find all of them. The shell of his ear, the pulse points of his wrists, a particular spot on his neck.

Some of them were sensitive because they could pull goose bumps up his arms, some made him keen and moan when his boyfriend kissed them and some were ticklish.

This last fact was something Adam had strived to keep secret. Ronan knew how to pick his weapons and he never misfired. Choice words worked on practically anyone. Fists worked with Declan. Tickling was Ronan’s weapon of choice when dealing with Adam.

They had been lying on Ronan’s bed in Monmouth. Adam didn’t have to work until later that night, and was furiously studying his ancient history flashcards. Somewhere along the line, Ronan had snuck his hand up Adam’s shirt, and began to trace his fingers up and down Adam’s xylophone-like ribs.

It was incredibly distracting.

Adam had only recently allowed Ronan to touch his bare torso and Ronan was not shying away from that privilege.

Sometimes Ronan would press closer than the busy corridors of school required, his hand coasting the vertebrae of Adam’s spine through his shirt. It was like their secret, hiding in plain sight.

Sometimes Ronan would rub circles into his back when he collapsed into bed.

Sometimes Ronan would attack his chest with his tongue and teeth.

And sometimes, well, he would do _this_ and Adam seriously contemplated physically pulling Ronan off him.

Ronan’s strokes increased in tempo, and he pushed a little harder into the ridges of Adam’s ribs.

Adam swallowed a laugh. Thankfully, Ronan’s eyes were shut so he couldn’t see the way Adam’s face was screwed up in an effort to not make a sound.

Then, Ronan touched a rather sensitive spot on Adam’s stomach and he couldn’t help it, he cracked.

An unbelievably light half-laugh escaped Adam and Ronan cracked an eye open.

“What?” he said, his hand stalling.

Without the assault of Ronan’s hand on his tummy and ribs, Adam could re-arrange his features.

“Nothing,” Adam answered, in what he hoped was a dignified tone.

Ronan eyed him questioningly but resumed his fingers’ dance up and down Adam’s abdomen. He couldn’t help it as a giggle, a fucking giggle, fought its way out of his mouth.

Adam could almost see the cogs turning in Ronan’s brain. It took him about 2 seconds to work it out, and then Adam knew he was doomed.

Ronan sat up to give himself better leverage, “You’re ticklish?”

It didn’t really need an answer but Adam shook his head, “No,”

“Oh okay,” said Ronan. “So if I for example-“he touched the spot that had first garnered a reaction from Adam. Adam gave a breathy laugh at this “Nothing happens?” Ronan finished.

Adam shook his head, but it was futile; he couldn’t help the light, child-like laughs from bubbling up inside him as Ronan tickled him.

“God, no Ronan, no, fuck!” Adam protested weakly, he couldn’t deny it, it felt good to laugh freely.

Ronan shifted his position, so he was straddling Adam’s hips.

Ordinarily, Adam would have considered the implications of this somewhat awkward position but all the thoughts were dashed from his head by the second onslaught of Ronan’s hands.

Adam writhed under Ronan, breathless and gasping from laughter, occasionally forcing out a swear word when Ronan’s fingers found another sensitive spot on Adam’s ribs.

Eventually, Ronan’s hands slowed down as he traced Adam’s abs with a fingertip. Ronan leant in, and Adam propped himself up on his elbows to meet his lips when the door burst open.

Gansey looked flustered, then bewildered, then flustered and bewildered.

“Ronan, I…oh, hi Adam, I didn’t see you come in” Gansey stated.

Adam waved weakly from his position under Ronan’s hips “Ronan picked me up from school”

“Okay, well. I just came in here because it sounded like…well I don’t know what it sounded like,” Gansey looked abruptly pleased, probably because he’d managed to string together the words into a proper sentence.

“Well,” Gansey said, a blush creeping up on his cheeks, “I’m going to go now,” and he did, the door closing with a snap.

“Gansey looked so lost,” Adam tried, in an attempt to break through the tension that had been mounting since they were intruded upon. “He was gaping like a fish”

Ronan wasn’t looking at him though, or paying much attention to what Adam was saying. He was still staring at his closed door, as if he was afraid Gansey was still lurking there. He clambered off Adam, bracing himself against the edge of his bed.

Adam could see his tense shoulders through his school shirt. He didn’t know what to say. Ronan was closed off to him in a way that he hadn’t been in a very long time.

Adam could tell that this was a situation that transcended himself and Gansey. It existed between Ronan and his upbringing and God.

Adam didn’t have that same problem. Sure, there was casual homophobia tossed around in his primary school and neighbourhood. Sure, his father was the tosser of most of that homophobia, but Adam had assumed he was straight, so it just washed off him. Not completely, but less so than Ronan.

By the time he realised he liked boys too, he had also realised that everything his father did and said was bullshit, so it didn’t matter.

He wished the same could be said about Ronan, even if the homophobia came from another father, the heavenly Father. Or more likely, his messengers.

Ronan was working on it though, if how less frequent the night-horrors inhabited his dreams was anything to go by. And by the fact that he let Adam kiss him and touch him and do other things to him. And by the fact that Adam had once caught him reading _Boy Meets Boy_ by David Levithan. Adam had never, himself, read that book but the title seemed pretty self-explanatory.

Ronan spoke, voice low and small. “Fuck,”

It was start, albeit a not very promising one. But considering Adam was used to Ronan internalising everything he was feeling, that one curse word felt like the start of a revolution.

“It’s—“ Adam tried, but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He was going to say _it’s not important, what Gansey thinks,_ but it clearly was important to Ronan.

He restarted, “Come on, do you really think Blue would be secretly dating Gansey if he was some sort of homophobe?”

Ronan turned to face him. His face was stony, but Adam could see cracks to that façade.

Ronan answered, a wry smile gracing his lips, “He probably wouldn’t be here today if he was. I mean, considering how hard she drags his ass when he’s sexist”

Adam involuntarily shivered, he had been on the receiving end of one of Blue’s feminism rants and he almost felt sorry for this hypothetical homophobic Gansey. Almost.

In hindsight, he kind of deserved to be dragged by Blue, he was being a dick.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “Gansey was just flustered because he probably assumed he had walked in on something _._ Which he didn’t, but he nearly did.”

That small smiled stayed on Ronan’s face, “Yeah, and he’s one to talk with the amount of times I catch him talking to Blue on the phone, thinking he’s being secretive. I can hear his pining all the way in my room”

“I think all of Henrietta knows he’s pining,” Adam replied.

Ronan let out a small laugh and Adam sighed in relief. He hadn’t resolved the situation; 18 years of self-loathing and internalized homophobia didn’t disappear that quickly, but he had relieved it.

“Come on, I think Gansey deserves some sort of explanation,” Adam said, making his way out of Ronan’s bed. His ribs felt bruised with laughing.

“I think I may have acquired another ab through all that,” Adam continued, pulling Ronan up.

Ronan laughed, and when he opened the door, Gansey looked visibly relieved that Ronan had made it out, not only in one piece, but smiling no less.

Adam put a step or two’s distance between himself and Ronan. He felt vaguely like he was intruding on something, some sort of private conversation between Gansey and Ronan, one that began when they first met and was finally ending.

Ronan, true to his form, was abrupt and to the point, but Adam was sure Gansey could sense the anxiety in his boyfriend’s words.

“So, Gansey, me and Adam are dating and shit”

Gansey looked at first like he wanted to correct Ronan’s grammar, before his mind caught up with the rest of what Ronan was saying. His eyes widened in realisation. “Oh, great! Excellent, even. Oh god, I wasn’t interrupting something, was I? Before?” Gansey asked, he looked genuinely worried.

“Yes, Dick. You interrupted this crucial part of gay sex that involves doing nothing with our clothes on,” Ronan dead-panned.

Gansey’s eye brows, already tottering dangerously close to his hairline crept up a few millimetres. “What? Oh. There’s no need to get snarky, Lynch,” he admonished, looking vaguely pissed off. “In my defence, you were _sitting on top_ of Adam, I just assumed…”

Adam, up until that point, was enjoying the role of spectator in the conversation. Gansey drew him in, turning a fond eye to his friends. “This is great, you know, anytime you want to watch some RuPaul’s Drag Race, I’m here,” said Gansey

Ronan rolled his eyes “Blue would totally be telling you off right now, stereotypes and all that shit.”

At the mention of Blue, Gansey turned a puzzled eye onto Adam.

“Blue. But I thought?” he stammered questioningly at Adam.

Adam finished Gansey’s thought, “That I dated Blue and now I’m dating Ronan? I’m bi, Gansey”

Ronan smirked “Someone needs to read a goddamn PFLAG pamphlet, God Gansey, what kind of parent are you?”

Gansey looked wounded, “Well I’ve never had a reason to before,”

Ronan replied, “Blue is totally going to destroy your privileged ass,”

“Okay, enough about Blue,” Gansey said “This is totally fine, okay? Thank you for telling me. And sorry for, you know, before. It’s all good. Just maybe, don’t let me catch you…canoodling anywhere that isn’t your room, Ronan, especially if I’m here”

Ronan made a face, a blush rising on his cheeks. “God, Gansey, okay. Only if you promise to stop secretly calling Blue. We all know you have a massive boner for her”

Now it was Gansey’s turn to flush, and at that point words seem to fail him completely.

Ronan nodded, pleased to have won _something._ Something Adam didn’t think needed to be won.

“Nice chat, old man,” he said and turned to go back to his room. Adam made to follow, but was stopped by Gansey’s hand on his shoulder. Gansey looked at him, his mouth curved into a wide smile.

“I’m glad you’re happy” he said, and raised his closed fist. Adam bumped it and turned to follow Ronan, a bounce in his step as he noticed a familiar weight in chest alleviate.

As soon as he closed the door, Ronan pushed him into the wall, devouring his mouth in a kiss.

Adam felt like he was floating, his toes barely grazing the floor. Kissing Ronan made him feel light, like he was laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how to end this chapter
> 
> Thanks for reading


End file.
